The Reflecting Mirror
by Dr. Kaitie Holmes
Summary: This is a SuperWhoLock. Something very...strange...happens in London, causing the Doctor to bring the Winchester brothers to help. Who are these aliens, and what do they mean when they demand to have the shards?
1. Sex Swap

**AN: **This is the first fanfic I ever started writing. I decided to share it on here. Have fun.

When John Watson woke up that Wednesday morning, nothing seemed to be wrong. He shambled to his dresser to turn of his alarm and froze when he caught sight of his reflection in the small mirror mounted on the wall. It wasn't him.

The person in the mirror was a girl.

She looked like him. They shared sandy hair, although hers flowed down to her elbows. Their eyes were the same green, and she wore the pajamas he had gone to sleep in.

Looking down, John was confronted with the swell of breasts. Tentatively, he brought his hands up and cupped them.

"Oh, God."

He tried to tell himself that he was dreaming...but everything was much too vivid. John hurried down the stairs to the main flat. No one was on the couch, so he must be in his room. Outside of Sherlock's door, he hesitated. Twice, briefly, he knocked, then entered his flatmate's room. The only indication that Sherlock was there was the lump under the sheets.

"Sherlock?" John winced at the feminine sound of his voice.

No answer.

Taking a few steps forward, John laid his hand against the white sheet and gently pushed.

"Go 'way."

The army doctor froze again. That wasn't Sherlock's voice. It was higher, for one, and...girly.

Grasping the sheet's top, John yanked them away.

There was a naked woman on the mattress.

"John!"

Adverting his eyes, John held the sheet out. From his brief glimpse, the woman was tall, with raven curls cascading down her back. If this was Sherlock...

A conclusion was hovering at the edge of his conscious, but refused to come into focus. Right now, he needed his consulting detective to figure out what the hell was going on.

The woman stood, the sheet wrapped around her body. Her eyes-Sherlock's gorgeous silver-blue eyes-narrowed.

"You...are you related to John?" he-she- asked suspiciously.

John shook his head. "No, Sherlock. I _am _John. No-just let me finish. Look at yourself, Sherlock."

After a moment of indecision, he lowered his gaze to his sheet-bound body. A lock of hair fell from his-her-shoulder and hovered in his line of sight.

Grabbing the curl, Sherlock yanked on it-and cursed when it pulled at his scalp. Dropping it-and his sheet-he pawed at his body. John tried to keep his eyes on the Periodic Table on the wall, but his eyes wandered. That alabaster skin...

Sherlock had a small moment of panicked silence. Then he pulled his sheet back around his body. "Go get dressed, John. Quickly."

Obediently, John went back to his room and changed. Wearing his regular clothes in this body was awkward. But he managed. Down in the flat, John sat in his chair and hugged the Union flag pillow to his chest. Sherlock exited his room wearing his coat and scarf.

"Let's go, John," he ordered, turning into the kitchen.

"Hang on!" he protested as Sherlock came back. "We need to eat something before we-"

Sherlock tossed an apple over his shoulder. John caught it-barely-and followed the detective out the door, down the stairs, and outside.


	2. Two Brothers and a Blue Box

London was in utter chaos. There was screaming, crying, shouting. People were running around on the streets, some barely dressed, confused. They walked down several streets in silence, simply observing. At one point, Sherlock knelt and retrieved two hair ties from the sidewalk. They tied their hair back quickly.

"Whatever's happening to us," Sherlock informed him as they walked, "has obviously happened all over London." His phone suddenly appeared in his hand as he checked the outside world. "All over the world actually. Never underestimate the need for people to share their life online, John. This is quite interesting."

John could tell that Sherlock was a little disoriented due to the current situation, but rolled his eyes on principle. "Does anyone have _any _idea what's happening?"

"Of course not," Sherlock said arrogantly. "But we will!"

Sighing at his companion, John trailed after him until he was distracted by a peculiar sound. A wheezing, mechanical rise and fall that passed overhead.

While John was searching the sky, Sherlock went on, absorbed in the halls of his mind palace.

And that's when the crazy man attacked him.

He slammed into John's side and sent him sprawling onto the sidewalk. As he clawed at John's clothes and mumbled nonsense, the army doctor was struck by the black abyss that was the man's eye. It was completely black, as if the pupil had bust and stained the entire orb. His other socket held nothing.

"Give it to me," he growled, tearing at John's collar. "We need it! We need the shards!"

Raising his hands, John did his best to fend the lunatic off. Even with how strong he was, the stranger was stronger-insanely so.

Suddenly the man slumped forward, unconscious. John squirmed out from underneath the motionless body and came face to face with his savior.

He was tall, even taller than Sherlock, dressed in jeans and a blue plaid shirt. Thick brown hair brushed against his neck and framed his handsome face. John felt a pang in his chest, immediately followed by guilt. He was devoted to Sherlock-even if the genius was distant.

"Are you alright?" he asked. John noted an American accent.

"Yeah. Sorry for troubling you." Giving a quick smile and nod, John turned and tried to spot his companion.

"No trouble," he said drawing close. "It was a pleasure to help."

John blushed, remembering that he was in a girl's body.

"Yo! Sammy!"

Turning, the doctor caught sight of another tall, dark-haired man striding towards them. He too wore jeans, covered by a black shirt and a black leather jacket. The tall man waved and said to John, "That's my brother, Dean. What's up, Dean?"

"The Doctor says to bring her aboard."

'Sammy' frowned. "I thought we were looking for two guys."

Dean shrugged. "He still wants her. Don't question the man."

Sam shrugged as well. "Okay. Are you going to be okay, coming with us?"

John hesitated. What about Sherlock? He probably wouldn't notice that they had separated for a while...

"Alright," he decided. He _was _curious.

Sam smiled down at him and led the trio down a side road. Against one wall was a slightly battered blue police box. One of the doors, opened inward, spilled light onto the shadowy ground. The brothers walked confidently up to the door and stepped inside. John puzzled over how they would all fit, but all speculation was overshadowed by what he saw through the doorway.

It was bigger on the inside.

Impossible! Yet his eyes refused to show him anything else. Sam and Dean had climbed a small set of steps to a platform with a blue-tinted cylinder rising to the ceiling. A man in a brown jacket, black jeans, suspenders, and a bow-tie was hovering over a section of controls. Another man, in a brown trench coat and blue tie, stood by him looking confused. He turned to smile at Dean as he approached.

The long-legged man in the bow-tie came up to John. He stuck his young face into the army doctor's.

"Oh, good," he said, satisfied. "I _was _right." he spun around and clapped his hands together once. "Alright! Let's get to work. Gang," he added, then chuckled.

"Hang on," John interjected. "What exactly is going on?"

**AN: **Thanks for commenting! I don't get around to replying very often, but I do appreciate it. And don't worry, Mrs H will make an appearance. :)


	3. To the Flat!

The man spun back around. "Oh. I'm the Doctor. Just the Doctor. Long story short, I'm a Time Lord. You might have noticed something weird when you woke up this morning."

"Well, yeah," John said. "Sorry, but what's a Time Lord?"

The Doctor waved his hand dismissively, reminding John a bit of a certain consulting detective. "Time-traveling alien. This," (here he spread his arms to indicate the room they were in), "is my ship, the TARDIS. Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. Isn't she lovely?"

At a loss, John nodded. Time travel? An alien? This box _was _certainly weird...and so was the man before him.

"So. Time Lord, TARDIS, and did I mention the aliens above our heads?"

John's head shot up. Nothing on the ceiling, so... "In the sky, then?"

The Doctor nodded, flapping his hands about. "Right. And nobody's noticed because of all this hullabaloo."

"Hey, Doc!" Dean interrupted, jogging over. "You never explained exactly what's going on."

"Yeah," Sam added, joining them, "Or what you need _us _for."

The man in the trench coat just stood behind Dean, watching him intently.

The Doctor pointed up. "The aliens up there," -he pointed down- "want something down here. I don't know what it is yet, but we _will _find out. Now, based on my previous and limited experience with this species, I know that they mimic demonic possessions. Which is where you three come in," he said, indicating the other three. "You know how to drive them out of their host." Whirling back to John, he said, "And you and Sherlock Holmes will discover whatever it is that they want, get it, and brig it to me. Simple and elegant!" Looking very pleased with himself, the Doctor spun around and went back to the controls.

"Hang on." Dean followed the Doctor back up the steps. "Did you just say _Sherlock Holmes_?"

The Doctor's head shot up. "Yes. I forgot to mention, didn't I?"

"Mention what?" Sam asked.

"We are in an alternate dimension. Actually, it's quite interesting. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, who wrote the books, accidentally popped through a tiny, inter-dimensional portal and discovered our detective here. Then he popped back and wrote about Mr Holmes in his own timeline." Grinning, the Doctor turned to John. "He got a few things wrong though, didn't he, John Watson?"

Sam's jaw dropped. "Wait. That's- but..."

The Doctor sighed. "Yes. I do not know why, but the Eliktans -those are the aliens- altered everyone's gender. And I don't know how either. So yes. John Watson is now...a girl."

Blushing, John shifted to his other foot. "Can you...change us back?"

Hesitating a moment, the Doctor said, "Maybe. If I can find out what technology they used, I can reverse it. Probably."

All present fell silent momentarily. "Then," John hazarded, "we'll have to get onto the ship, won't we?"

The Doctor nodded solemnly. Then he blinked. "Hang on-where is Mr Holmes?"

John shrugged a little guiltily. "He was out investigating. He'll probably head back to the flat soon."

"Ah!" The Doctor turned and flicked a couple of switches on the controls. "A little jump, then. Let's go, old girl."

John stared, wide-eyed, as the centre cylinder began to rise and fall rhythmically. A wheezing sound- _That's the sound I heard before!_ -filled the room for a few moments before fading away. The Doctor left his control panel and led the group to the doors.

Stepping out, John blinked as he recognized the living room of his flat. The blue box had come to a rest between their two chairs, in front of the fireplace. To confirm what he saw, John reached out and brushed his fingers over the back of his chair. They were really there.

The others fanned out and started poking around the flat. Dean bee-lined for the fridge, opened it, then slammed it again. "Can someone tell me _why _there's a severed led inn the fridge?" he demanded.

John shrugged. "It's one of Sherlock's experiments. Don't touch, or he gets cranky."

The Doctor gently lifted the skull from the mantle. "Alas, poor Yorick. I knew ye well," he murmured.

Sam and the dark-haired man in the trench coat hung back by the blue box. John joined them. "Sorry," he said to the nameless man, "but what's your name?"

"I am Castiel, an angel of the Lord," he said formally.

John blinked. Sam laughed. "It's okay. Cas is a little weird, but he's not crazy."

"So..." John said slowly, "he's an angel...?"

"Yeah. It's complicated. Don't worry about it."

They were all silent for a moment; then John's phone went off to let him know he had a text.

**AN: **I was going to mention this last chapter, but... heh heh. Well. ^ ^; I just wanted to say that Sherlock isn't taking these developments well. Earlier, in his room, he had a bit of a mental breakdown. So far, his theories are that he's on a bad trip or he was drugged another way. Poor Sherlock.

Ta! Thanks for reading. :)


	4. Searching

**Where are you?  
****SH**

John quickly tapped out a response.

**At the flat. Where are you?  
****John**

**Taxi. Almost home. Where did you go?  
****SH**

**You wouldn't believe me if I told you.  
****John**

There was no answer, but John heard the door downstairs open. He met Sherlock at the top of the stairs.

"Sherlock, there are some people here to see you. Clients."

The consulting detective frowned. "John, have you seen outside? I have no time for-"

"Ah, excuse me," the Doctor interjected, leaning out of the doorway. "But this is about what's happening outside."

Sherlock took a moment to deduce all he could about their strange visitor. There was something off about him, but he couldn't put his finger on what...

**~ oOo ~**

"And that's why they're here," John finished in a rush.

The two of them were in Sherlock's room; John was pacing nervously in front of Sherlock, who sat on the edge of the bed. The army doctor had wanted to fill the detective in before there was any interaction between him and the visitors.

Sherlock was silent. "Alright, John. Let's say that this is really happening. What would you suggest we do?"

John was shocked. Sherlock was asking him?

"I, erm. I think we should help, Sherlock. Especially if it can help us change everything back to normal."

"Of course you do," the detective muttered. He flopped back on the mattress. John politely adverted his eyes from the swell of Sherlock's breasts and sat next to his legs. "Is this real, John? It can't be. It's not possible."

Patting his leg comfortingly, the doctor said, "I know, Sherlock, but some things just can't be explained. Like your mind."

Sherlock scoffed at the attempt at a joke. "_That _can easily be explained with genetics."

John rolled his eyes and stood, offering the reclining detective his hand. He took it with a sigh and let his flatmate haul him up. "Alright, John. We'll investigate this."

"Thank you," John smiled. He held Sherlock's hand a second longer than strictly necessary before letting go. "Come meet the others."

Sherlock followed John into the living room, securely shutting his door behind them. Warily, he stared at the four men standing around the room. Dean was standing guiltily with a pair of chopsticks in his mouth. There went the leftovers for dinner.

"Got around the leg, then?" John asked good-naturedly. Dean nodded, going back to devouring the food. After introductions, John left them to fill in his detective while he put on the tea. After pouring it, he brought it into the living room and passed out the cups to the men on the couch and the Doctor in his chair.

Dean took a sip and grimaced. "Do you have any coffee?" he asked. His brother slapped his arm.

"Sure," John smiled.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You don't have to wait on them, John."

"Yes, I do," John reminded him, patting his shoulder and handing him his tea. "That's the point in being a host."

After the coffee was done and the brothers were served, John finally settled in the desk chair with his cup.

"So," Sherlock said, assuming his 'thinking' position, fingers steepled under his chin. "How do we find whatever they are looking for?"

The Doctor shrugged. "There are several things we can do first, but I suggest finding an occupied host."

* * *

Sherlock handed John the hot cup of tea and rubbed his hands together for warmth. It was raining, it was cold, and they'd been canvasing the street for what seemed like hours. John was wearing one of his thickest jumpers and his parka, and he was still cold. Sherlock seemed unaffected, except for the excessive hand rubbing. "A female body has poor circulation," he complained. John sighed, sipping his rapidly cooling tea. "Are you sure you don't want some?" he asked Sherlock. The detective shook his head, but a few seconds later, he stole the cup and drank from it before giving it back. John's lips twitched. How typical.

"Doctor!" John called. The Time Lord popped out of an alley. "How are we supposed to find these hosts?"

The Doctor looked around covertly before whispering, "Well, it should be quite simple, since the rest of the city has gone about their daily lives. Really, have you noticed how resilient these people are? The worst happens, and they find a way to fight on! It's brilliant. Ah! Yes, right. The hosts will act-as people say-crazy. Absolutely bonkers. They will be looking for the object they desire-at any cost. Oh, and their eyes will be completely black. All around."

John frowned. "Um. Does 'any cost' include attacking people in the street and trying to tear their clothes off?"

Sherlock looked at him strangely and then gave him a 'I-won't-say-anything-now-but-just-wait-til-we-get -back-to-the-flat' glare. He hated it when John withheld information.

"Um, yes," the Doctor said. "Yes, I believe that is the exact definition." He turned to walk away, then spun on his heel and returned. "Why?"

"It-um, it happened right before Sam and Dean found me. I thought I was imagining the eye-he only had one-and then Sam knocked him out."

The Doctor stared at him intently, grabbing the sides of his head. "What did he say? Did he say anything?"

"Um. He said something about shards. N-needing shards. Why? Is that important?"

"Yes! Maybe." The Doctor spun away, only to replaced by Sherlock. The consulting detective put his hands on John's face, examining his eyes.

"Did he hurt you, John?"

"No. He just knocked me over and climbed on-"

Sherlock growled. He didn't do it on purpose-John doubted he even knew he did it-but he growled. That deep, possessive sound echoed deep in John's chest, sending waves of warmth through his freezing body.

They caught up with the others after Sherlock let go of the army doctor. The Doctor was waving a stick with a green glowing end about, making a weird whirring noise. "What is that?" John asked curiously.

The Doctor waved the stick at him. "My Sonic Screwdriver. I'm tracking a transmat signal that should lead us to an entry point of the Eliktans' ship. Then we can stake it out until one of them possesses a human."

"Um. Isn't that bad?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No. They can't harm their hosts, and kicking them out is also harmless. That's why we want them in a host. They can't hurt us if we tie them up, and they can't get out of the body. Well, not after what I plan to do."

"And that is?"

"Using this," he said, brandishing the screwdriver, "I will scramble the feed that allows them to leave their body until we know what they know."

"Hey, Doc!" Dean called. They followed his voice around the corner, finding an empty lot. He and Sam were crouched around a spot of dirt in the centre. Cas was nowhere to be seen. The Doctor sprinted over and pointed his screwdriver at the ground. Apparently it told him what he wanted to know, because he let out a cheer and spun in a circle.

"This is it! Now we've just got to wait. I hate waiting. So. Let's wait."

The Doctor directed them to hiding spots and they huddled down to wait.

**AN: **I feel like some bits of this might be confusing, so just shoot me a message and I'll respond and/or fix it. Thanks for reading!


End file.
